


Dentition

by chasu



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Consensual Kink, M/M, Sex Work, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3250040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasu/pseuds/chasu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The client grinned back at him. "How many have you turned down?"</p><p>The vampire pretended to consider it. He tapped his bottom lip with his pointer finger, one, two, three times before he said, "This century?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dentition

   It was a little bit like biting into a ripe orange.

   Which the vampire avoided at all costs, these days. Citrus fruits had a particularly acrid taste to him now, but the juice still flowed the same, and he still remembered the explosion of flavour, the intensity.

   The client beneath him tipped his head back. The vampire, distracted by watching him, allowed a trickle of blood to escape from the two puncture marks, dripping down onto the red sheets. Easier for clean-up, that way. It was harder to notice the stains.

   Unlike a ripe orange (a comparison the vampire was beginning to regret, because the client - this client - was so very alive, so very animated--), the client was loud. He groaned his ecstasy, didn't allow the vampire to miss a moment of it, as if he would ever want to.

   He might even go as far as to say that this client was - well, maybe not necessarily his favourite, because the vampire didn't really believe in favouritism in this line of work. But this one was the most interesting one, he thought. Tall, well-muscled but not particularly toned, and with body hair that might have indicated some deep central European ancestry, he was unique. A few years ago, he might have been called a bear, though perhaps he was a little young.

   Which made it all the more exciting when he showed up, oddly confident in his submission, as though those things didn't cancel each other out. He would show up friendly and joking around. And then he would kiss the vampire, and the vampire would kiss back. And then the client would take his clothes off, and lie down and close his eyes.

   It had never been erotic for him. Truth be told, he supposed that from a human perspective, it was a little like eating dinner while having sex. Maybe even like eating an orange while having sex. Multitasking to the extreme. But he never let on. He lapped from the puncture wounds with intermittent moans and whimpers, like it was doing something more than delivering oxygen and nutrients to his digestive system, and in turn, his clients lapped up the act.

   Below him, the client shuddered, and the vampire knew that he had hit the golden point. The point where the faintness became euphoria as the combination of light-headedness and adrenaline took the mind to somewhere lovely, a higher plane - something the vampire had only heard about, but many times. The vampire stroked more deliberately over the client's shaft. One last lick, and then a kiss to the tender, bruised skin.

   The clients hips bucked as he climaxed, suddenly - the vampire, taken by surprise, let the blood flow just a moment longer until it was over, the client's eyelashes fluttering just slightly, his chest rising and falling with gradually evening breaths.

   All was clean, and the antibacterial cream and band-aid were applied before the client came back to himself, and just as well. That was the unsexy part.

   At least this client was sturdy enough, and the vampire knew him well enough, that he usually didn't need any more care than that. He had only fainted the first time, and that was quite a while ago.

   The client made himself comfortable, content to ride out the blissful disorientation until it was over, as usual. The vampire, also as usual, curled into his side, toying with the hair on the clients chest, fingers light, skipping, following the thick trail down his stomach.

   "Conscious?" the vampire asked, after maybe five minutes of listening to the client breathing.

   The client let out a happy sigh, just as the vampire began to trace around his bellybutton with one delicate finger. "Very. That was good. Great, in fact."

   The vampire let his eyes fall closed. It wasn't too long until sunrise; he was weary. "I'm sure my neighbours were glad to hear it."

   The client let out a small, short laugh under his breath. "We should date," the client said, absently, like it had just tumbled out without a second thought.

   "Don't date clients," the vampire replied, curtly and suddenly much more awake. "You know full and well that I don't date clients. I told you that the very day I met you." He made to get up, shifting from their comfortable position and ignoring the client's little groan of discomfort. "I think you need a biscuit."

   He kept them in the kitchen for emergencies; sugared shortbread cookies and a glass of orange juice usually did the trick. His whole kitchen was shortbread cookies and orange juice, tea and coffee, ice cubes.

   "I'm fine. Not even woozy." The client was blatantly lying - he tried to sit up, and had to slump against the headboard. Still, he was maintaining eye contact, and didn't seem on the verge of passing out. The vampire got back underneath the crimson bed-covers again, pulling them up to his neck to ward off the winter chill that snuck in from the cracks on the windowpane. "And I wouldn't be a client if we dated, would I?" He had the audacity to lean in for a kiss then, and the vampire didn't protest. Smiled into it, even. "I see you practically every day anyway, so what would it change?"

   "A lot." The vampire liked the client; didn't just tolerate him. He even, occasionally, looked forward to their time together, even though it was inadvisable. The client wouldn't be around much longer, he was sure. He wasn't closeted or married or unattractive or especially insecure; he didn't need to pay for sex, even this specific brand of it. The vampire didn't understand why he did. He had never asked. "It's not my fault you're addicted," he said, with a cheeky grin, trying to diffuse the slight tension that had settled over them.

   It worked; the client grinned back at him. "How many have you turned down?"

   The vampire pretended to consider it. He tapped his bottom lip with his pointer finger, one, two, three times before he said, "This century?"

   The client rolled his eyes, no longer grinning. "I know you're not _that_  old."

   "I am an ancient creature of infinite wisdom," the vampire said, sagely, as he had said it many times before. Then he added, "What makes you say that?"

   The client replied like it was obvious. "Your teeth."

   "My teeth?" The vampire had never heard that one before. He ran his tongue over them; the front of the top row, the back of the bottom row. The enamel was nice and smooth, fangs safely tucked away after feeding.

   "You couldn't have maintained your teeth so well for hundreds of years, considering what dental hygiene was like back then," the client continued, "and you couldn't show up at a dentist with centuries-old teeth and tucked-away fangs without risking a freak-out." He looked very pleased with himself about it. The vampire had never seen him look smug before. "Am I right?"

   The vampire gave him an indignant look. "How do you know I'm not a thousand-year-old Pharaoh from ancient Egypt? Maybe my teeth were the priority of the whole nation once."

   The client only looked at him. At his face, blankly. "You're white, to begin with."

   "Am I?" The vampire feigned surprise. "It's been so long since I've looked in a mirror, I can hardly recall."

   "Please," the client laughed. "I'd be surprised if you were older than fifty." He sobered, leaning in again; close enough to kiss, but he just bumped their noses together. "Which puts you right in my perfect age range for dating, now doesn't it?"

   "Lucky you." The vampire did pull away this time. He got up, out of the bed, looking around for his underwear, highly aware of the client watching him with disappointment.

   The client tried a different tactic. "How many of your clients do you cuddle with after sex?"

   His tone had been gentle, not pressing, but the vampire still wished that he hadn't asked. "They pay me," he said, frankly, finally locating his boxer shorts slung over the desk chair, and putting them on. "I do whatever they want."

   The answer he hadn't given was, in his opinion, incredibly obvious. He didn't do whatever they wanted. That was an overstatement - maybe even a lie. He didn't even kiss some of them, but the client didn't need to know that, even though he probably already did. Just like he probably would not have asked that question if he didn't know full and well that post-coital cuddling wasn't something the vampire had done with anyone else in years.

   "Are you seeing someone at the moment?"

   "No." The vampire's shirt had apparently disappeared into the aether. "I'm gloriously single, actually."

   "And you haven't even entertained the idea...?"

   The vampire hesitated, which was an answer in itself. He had entertained many ideas, but the bottom line was that outside of a fantasy, it never worked. He had dated clients in the past, and half the time, they were crafty fetishists, wanting their kinky fix for free. Other times, they seemed legitimately disappointed that the vampire actually had a personality underneath the mannerisms he adopted for their sake. Or, possibly the worst of all, the jealousy would set in - after a time, they'd demand that he get a real job, and find themselves unceremoniously kicked to the curb that very night.

   And there were other issues. The issue that, sometimes, he just needed a break from men and their bodies. The issue of the sudden drop in his income that took a while to replace. The issue that immortality in relationships never really ended well - could _never_  really end well, because no matter how smoothly they happened to get along, it would all come crashing down eventually.

   "I'm harassing you," the client said, flatly. He looked down at his own stomach. The vampire had learned, once, that downcast eyes were a sign of submissiveness in animals.

   "You're trying to negotiate with me," the vampire conceded, because it was true. "And you're making good points. I don't approve of that."

   The client managed to look serious while also naked, his bare torso visible down to the waist as he sat upright, giving the vampire a meaningful look, maintaining eye contact while he struggled into his jeans. "I really want to get to know you. To get to know more about you than I can tell by your pearly whites," the client said. Sincerely. The vampire wanted to blush. He shuffled closer, trousers around his knees, the moment to urgent to do anything about them. The client took both of his cold hands in his own. "One dinner as regular people. What do you think?"

   Despite the fact that the vampire spoke with a distinctly modern accent, and knew barely enough about ancient history to weave together his anecdotes, and did, in fact, have an orderly, white smile - nobody had ever looked twice when he had declared himself a lover of Marie Antoinette or a Roman slave.

   The client had green eyes. They had always been there, but before, they hadn't really mattered.

   "Not dinner," the vampire said. "I don't eat dinner. This was dinner."

   "Right," the client agreed. "A late-night movie?"

   The vampire nodded.

 

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be an exercise in writing dialogue, and i ended up with almost 2k words of *gasp* original fic. which i haven't written in over a year. wow. 
> 
> also, the client's actions here do pretty much stray into harassment territory, so please don't actually do that to sex workers.


End file.
